


Piece of Paper

by sterryrn



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Brief Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Christmas, F/M, Light Angst, M/M, Mary is nice, Past Mary Morstan/John Watson, Secret Santa, Unilock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 21:02:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9023842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sterryrn/pseuds/sterryrn
Summary: He deliberately takes entirely too long for just taking a small piece of paper out of a hat, smirking in satisfaction when Molly gets impatient. She rolls her eyes and moves on to the next guest. Sherlock waits a few minutes before he unfolds the paper and reads the name he picked. John Watson. It’s just his luck, isn’t it?





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank my friend for putting up with me while writing this fic. It was a struggle. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Leave kudos and comments, please. I love those a lot.
> 
> Merry Christmas!

Sherlock allows his gaze to drift to the volunteer that works at the university’s library. He works here almost every day for some reason Sherlock cannot fathom. Never in his life has he been interested in any other human being until he saw him a couple of months ago. There is a lot that he can and can’t deduce about him, exactly something he finds intriguing. Only a handful of people in his life are capable of keeping secrets from him.

He’s attractive, Sherlock supposes. Blond, blue eyes and he has a bit of a tan. He understands why girls are always bothering him and slipping their number in his pocket when he’s not paying any attention. Even though he wears thick jumpers and plaid shirts more often than is considered normal, it’s visible that he works out. Yes, he can definitely understand why girls are interested.

Visiting the library has become a habit. Not ever has he been particularly interested in visiting this place. Only when he needed a specific book for one of his courses. But that changed drastically.

The sound of someone clearing their throat snaps him out of his thoughts.

“His name is John Watson.” A familiar voice says and he groans internally. No, he does not want Molly here. How does she even know that he’s here?

“Whose name?”

“Him. The guy you’ve been eyeing for at least five minutes.”

He feigns ignorance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Molly smiles at him and ignores his response. “He’s a medical student, did you know? Plays rugby. He’s captain, actually.”

That explains a lot, Sherlock realises. He frowns.

“How do you know all of this?”

She shrugs and starts to fidget with her sweater when Sherlock gives her one of his intense stares. “I uh, talk to people? Uhm. And we have a few courses together.” He knows that Molly is keeping something from him, he can see it in the way she keeps her head low and her eyes on the floor, so he continues with staring.

It doesn’t take long for Molly to give in.

“And... and I noticed that you come here quite a lot which is strange so I thought ‘why not find out why Sherlock keeps coming here?’ so I follow you around sometimes and you always sit near where John is and you keep looking at him! I just wanted to know why you’re so... so captivated by him! I’m so sorry!” It all comes out in one go and at the end of her ramble she’s out of breath and blushing a deep shade of red. 

Sherlock is surprised. He didn’t notice her sneaking around and for a moment he is impressed. He doesn’t say it aloud, though, and instead reacts annoyed. He grabs his bag and moves to stand up, putting on his coat, scarf and gloves. He hears Molly following him while he goes outside.

It’s cold. It doesn’t help with his mood.

He stops when she grabs his sleeve and tugs insistently.

“Please don’t be upset with me.” Molly begs.

  
“I’m not.” Sherlock replies and turns around to face her. He’s not. Not really, anyway. He should have known that she would find out. She knows him better than he likes to think.   

She bites her lip and looks troubled for a moment. “I know it was wrong of me to snoop around,” Molly begins. “But you’re suddenly so happy! Well, as happy as I can imagine you to be. Anyway!”

She changes her word use when she sees Sherlock’s mood shift from annoyed to even more annoyed. “It’s almost Christmas and you hate Christmas. And you’re never happy during this time of the year. I just wanted to know what puts you in such a good mood, that’s all. I’m sorry, Sherlock. Really.”

Sherlock doesn’t say anything and turns around again, continuing his way. Molly tries to stop him by tugging on his sleeve again, but it doesn’t work so she walks faster. It irritates him.

  
“What do you want from me?” Sherlock asks.

  
Molly flinches at his harsh and demanding tone. Sherlock’s expression softens a bit at that.

 “Nothing.” Molly mutters.

They walk in silence for a while.

“There’s going to be a secret Santa.” Molly mentions and Sherlock groans loudly, attracting the attention of two other students walking ahead of them.

“I know that you don’t like parties and especially hate everything that has something to do with Christmas, but John agreed on joining and you like ‘deducing’ people. So please come and join too? There will be two parties, one to draw the names and one for the gifts.”

He just wants Molly to shut up and leave him alone.

“Fine.”

Molly grins brightly.

* * *

 

Molly didn’t tell him that the first of the two planned parties would be taking place the day after their conversation, leaving Sherlock with no time to mentally prepare himself. 

Now he’s sitting in a room with a few familiar faces, a handful that he vaguely recognises and people that he doesn’t know at all. He recognises John and Molly, of course. Sebastian Wilkes is here as well, which he isn’t so excited about. He sighs heavily when he pours himself another drink. Sherlock wishes they would just skip to the part of drawing the names so he’s able to leave. He doesn’t want to socialise.

It’s the first time that he is being this close to John. It’s terrifying. The possibility that they will talk is enormous and he is not sure whether he wants to speak with him or not. What would he even say to him? He would probably scare him away the moment he opens his mouth. He has a tendency to drive people away with just his words. It’s a curse and a blessing at the same time.

Sherlock decides to stay away from everyone and sits in a corner, making sure that no one will bother him. Molly has tried to convince him into engaging with the guests, but gave up when he deduced her lacking love life.

The party goes on for another thirty minutes without anyone trying to start a conversation with him. Then all of a sudden a Santa hat is being shoved in his face. 

“It’s time to draw the names.” Any trace of disappointment and disapproval of his rude behaviour from earlier is gone and instead Molly is beaming at him, shaking the hat to encourage him to grab a piece of paper out of it.

Sherlock sighs at Molly’s excitement.

He deliberately takes entirely too long for just taking a small piece of paper out of a hat, smirking in satisfaction when Molly gets impatient. She rolls her eyes and moves on to the next guest. Sherlock waits a few minutes before he unfolds the paper and reads the name he picked.

_John Watson._

It’s just his luck, isn’t it?

* * *

The small piece of paper with John’s name written on it is still in Sherlock’s coat pocket a week after the party. He doesn’t know what to do. Does he have to go through with this? This shouldn’t be as difficult as it is. Sherlock doesn’t want to talk to John, how stupid that might be. For once he doesn’t want someone to dislike him. He’s perfectly fine with how their relationship is. 

Nonexistent.

If he goes through with this, he will have to buy him a present and interact with John. And he doesn’t want to. Definitely not. Besides, what would he even buy for John? They only wrote down their names on a small strip, folded them and threw them in a Santa hat. No one wrote down what they would like to have.

He knows that John has an interest in sports. And he seems to love jumpers, going by how many times in a week he wears them. He’s not sure if John would like to have a book, considering that he sees them on a daily basis.

Sherlock visits a gift shop on his own. The woman behind the counter is kind and shows him around, making several suggestions, but Sherlock knows that John will not be happy with getting a cheap looking snow globe or a pair of pink mittens that are meant for little girls. After thirty minutes he’s almost tempted to buy a pack of glitter pens and just give up. He thanks the woman with one of his charming smiles and leaves as quickly as possible.

He’s going to try and find a decent gift for John. If he doesn’t find anything, then he’ll simply cancel and flee to his parents’ house. He will just have to suffer his mother’s presence for a few days.

After checking out the windows from other shops for what feels like an eternity, hoping that he will see something that catches his eye, Sherlock makes his way back to university. He is going to need help with this. And there’s only one person he knows that can.

* * *

 “We’re going shopping.” Sherlock announces and throws Molly’s coat on her lap just as she is about to start experimenting.

“I can’t-” Sherlock cuts her off.

“I don’t care.” He truly doesn’t care if Molly has the time to come with him or not. This is a matter of life and death. This is about John which falls into the same category in his opinion. Molly is hesitant. Eventually she gives in and starts to take off her lab coat and latex gloves.

“An hour. That is all the time I have. And you’re buying me coffee.”

“Fair enough.”

* * *

They don’t end up buying anything. It turns out that Molly is just as clueless as he is. Or perhaps that’s to blame on him for not telling her that he picked John. Sherlock thought that she would have some knowledge about what people generally liked to get. An hour goes by fast, though Molly doesn’t leave. She stays for another hour and a half, then tells Sherlock that he still owes her a big cup of the most expensive coffee there is and runs to catch her bus. 

As a last desperate attempt Sherlock steps into a bookshop that will close soon and accidentally bumps into someone while he hurries inside. She seems familiar to him, but he can’t remember where he saw her before. It doesn’t matter, he decides. He apologises, asks her if she’s alright and then quickly minds his own business again when she says yes. He truly isn’t interested in her wellbeing.

It shouldn’t surprise him to see the one person he wants to avoid. John. He didn’t expect to see him here. He is surrounded by books all day and then goes to another place filled with them in his free time? Sherlock can’t deduce if John has a passion for books or not.

He hides his face behind a nonfiction book and pretends to be busy while he watches John. Sherlock sees him take a book from a shelve, a delighted smile on his face and then the woman he bumped into steps up to him. They’re not strangers. Definitely friends, if he’s correct. Perhaps they’re more than friends.

The pair walks into Sherlock’s direction and he quickly turns his back to them. They stop a few metres away from him. Just close enough for him to hear their conversation and far enough for them to think that he can’t.

“So, what are you going to buy for your recipient?” she asks John.

  
“I don’t know yet.” John replies.

  
“You’re clueless, aren’t you?” 

“What? No. I’m not.” He is.

  
“Yeah, you are.” Sherlock hears that it is said with a smile on her face. He can imagine John smiling back at her. 

“You’re lucky,” John says. “You have Molly and you’re friends with her.”

“I suppose you’re right.” She’s smiling again.

Now he knows where he recognises her from. He doesn’t know any of Molly’s friends, never bothered to get to know them either. Sherlock remembers seeing her at the party.

Sherlock flips through the pages of the book he’s holding while John and Molly’s friend walk past him, completely oblivious about his presence.

* * *

The lecture Sherlock is forced to go to is boring. If he doesn’t go to enough lectures he will be kicked out and that’s the last thing he wants. And he doesn’t want his parents to convince the university to keep him here. Again. So he will suffer through it.

Whatever the professor is discussing is something Sherlock knows already. So he decides to check some of the group conversations he was added to by Molly. He never says anything in them, but he reads all of the messages just to get rid of the notifications. There is a group chat for just the people from the secret Santa. It doesn’t have a proper title, just an emoji of a Santa hat that someone thought would be good enough. 

 _[10:09 AM] Molly: have some of you found the perfect gift yet_  
_[10:11 AM] Mary: Yep! They will love it ;)_  
_[10:12 AM] Sebastian: not yet :(_  
_[10: 12 AM] John: me neither, but working on it_  
_[10: 14 AM] Jim: YES!!!! It’s perfect! And if it’s not, well then we will just have to work that out.... :):):) xxx_  
_[10: 14 AM] Mary: LMAO, sounds pretty ominous if you ask me, Jim._ __  
[10: 14 AM] Jim: Darling, don’t worry. I didn’t buy you anything. Or did I???? xoxoxo

Sherlock sighs at how boring the conversation is. No one says anything interesting. The only thing that is somewhat interesting is how creepy Jim is behaving. He doesn’t hang around with him, though Jim tries to get closer to him by sending him all sorts of random texts and messages, both in private and in some of the group chats he is in. Should he be concerned?

The door slams open and the professor stops talking, causing Sherlock to look up and direct his attention to the person that enters the room. It’s John that walks in, panting and soaking wet with an apologetic smile on his face. The professor doesn’t say anything and just mentions John that he should sit down and keep his mouth shut. Fortunately John is smart enough to do what he’s told.

Sherlock can barely breathe when John sits _right in front of him._ He can almost count all the raindrops that fall down from John’s hair and onto his drenched jacket. It doesn’t seem to bother John, all he does is grab his notebook and starts to write.

He prays to whatever God is up there to get him through this three hour during lecture.

* * *

It was extremely difficult to focus while John sat in front of him. Sherlock wanted to run and never come back. What if John turned around and decided to try to chat with him? He wouldn’t have known what to say. He would have come across as some kind of idiot. John would never want to socialise with him ever again. But luckily that didn’t happen. 

Sherlock tries to focus on the detailed notes someone in his group made and shared in the chat an hour after the lecture. His heart finally stopped with racing a few moments ago and he feels somewhat better. He hopes that he will never sit this close to John again. Seeing John at the library is different. It’s a huge place, somewhere he can hide easily if the other comes too close for comfort.

He swipes to the second photo of the five that are made when someone taps him on his shoulder. It is John’s friend/possible lover he saw at the bookshop.

“I can help you.” she says. Sherlock doesn’t know what she is talking about and apparently it is obvious because she starts to explain almost immediately. She fumbles around in her pocket and pulls out a small slip of paper.

“This fell out of your pocket. When you sat down here. John’s name is on it. That doesn’t explain much, does it?” She doesn’t give Sherlock any time to answer. “I spoke with Molly and she told me that you had trouble with finding a gift for the person you picked.”

“Well,” Sherlock sighs and starts to pack his things. “Let’s go, shall we?”

* * *

It turns out that Sherlock had wrongly deduced their relationship. Friends, yes. Not lovers. They were in a relationship, but it didn’t work out. She introduces herself as Mary and explains that she, Molly and John follow some of the same courses and that John recently decided to also follow chemistry.

“He is struggling with learning all the formulas.” Mary says and shows Sherlock a pair of ridiculous looking socks. He shakes his head and she puts them back. “He is not a genius like you are, even though he likes to think so.”

Sherlock says nothing. He grabs some awfully flashy wrapping paper, Scotch tape and a pair of scissors and goes to the register. Mary follows him. It’s one of those gift shops they entered, not the same he went to last time, but they look similar. Mary shows him all kind of ridiculous things. Mugs, hats, gloves, scarfs, even stuffed animals. At least she isn’t worse than Molly.

The next shop they go to is a clothing shop. Mary links their arms together and leads Sherlock to the men’s department, right to the knitwear.

“Doesn’t he have enough hideous jumpers?” Sherlock asks. He’s not going to buy John another jumper. All he ever sees is him wearing jumpers in a variety of colours and patterns. The oatmeal coloured one is his least favourite. A navy blue one catches his eye and he cannot help but to take a look. It’s cashmere and his eyes widen at the price tag. It’s expensive. It would fit John and if he has to buy the other a jumper, then he could at least give him one that’s quality and worth its price.

“That’s nice,” Mary approves. “He’s been eyeing this one for months now.”

Sherlock hesitates. It is expensive. Very expensive, even for his standards. It is not the kind of price you expect in this shop. Almost everything is around twenty or thirty pounds. The fabric feels almost identical to his Dolce and Gabbana sweater his mother gave to him a few years ago.

He grabs it off the rack and ignores Mary’s surprised reaction.

  
“You’re really going to buy that for him?”

  
“Yes. I don’t see why not.” Sherlock answers. He knows it is way over the budget they agreed on, but he doesn’t care. It is the only thing he knows that John will genuinely like and he enjoys to see him smile. He doesn’t smile as often as Sherlock would like him to. 

The cashier compliments his choice, saying something about having the same jumper in a different colour and hands him the bag, quickly shoving the receipt in his hands when Sherlock is just about to walk away.

Mary is still in shock when they’re outside.

  
“You must really like him.” Mary says. There is a glimmer of hope in her eyes, though Sherlock doesn’t know why she gives him this look. She gives him a warm smile. 

* * *

Mary dragged Sherlock to a small coffeeshop he didn’t know the existence of, but he can’t complain because she’s buying him coffee. It’s not a terrible place. He simply can’t stand the cheerfulness of the barista and the obnoxious Christmas decorations. No place in the entire world needs this many Christmas lights on the ceiling and on the walls. 

They don’t talk about anything interesting. Mary compliments his present for John, expresses her shock again that he bought it and then starts to rant about how John is struggling with getting decent grades for chemistry.

“Would you mind tutoring him sometime?”

Sherlock stares at her. Mary can’t help it and starts to laugh, nearly spilling her coffee on the floor. He almost wishes she did spill it so she will stop with laughing.

“I should have known that you are afraid of talking to him. Don’t think that nobody notices that you have a secret crush on John.”

“I do not have a crush on him!” Sherlock immediately denies. He shouldn’t have said anything, he realises, when Mary raises her eyebrow.

“I know when you’re lying, Sherlock. We have only met today, but you’re very easy to read. And it helps that Molly has told me all about you.”

Sherlock opens his mouth to reply, but stops when he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He glares at Mary the entire time while he unlocks it and reads the messages he received.

 _2:03 PM: My, my! You’re spending a lot of money on that Johnny boy of yours xxx JM_  
_2:11 PM: It hurts my feelings that you never reply to any of my messages Sherly xxx JM_ __  
2:16 PM: Oh well. I will find you anyway darling :) xxx JM  
_2:20 PM: BORING, Sherly, BORING where you’re at right now :) xxx JM_

The messages are unnerving and for the first time Sherlock feels uncomfortable. How does Jim know that he has bought John a present for secret Santa? How does he even know that he is here with Mary? He must have someone to keep an eye on him or it’s Jim himself, though it doesn’t seem like something he would do. He most likely paid someone to follow them around.  It is definitely strange. And not in a good way. 

“Sherlock, are you alright?”

“Yes.” Sherlock puts his phone away and changes the subject of their conversation.

* * *

Unbelievable. Stupid. So very _stupid_. Why did he agree? Why did he agree to help John with his chemistry homework? Mary somehow convinced him that it would be a good idea and that they would finally have an excuse to talk. Sherlock does not want to talk to John, he truly doesn’t. But now he has to. What is he going to say? How is he going to introduce himself to John without coming across as a fool?

Sherlock takes a look in the mirror. His outfit is the same as what he would wear on any day. Plain shirt, black trousers and leather shoes. His hair is a bit more messy than usual. That’s because he can’t stop himself from running his hands through it. It’s a habit he has whenever he’s nervous.

He wonders if John will like the way he looks. He doesn’t have anyone around to ask. In a moment of desperation he knows he will regret Sherlock takes out his phone and snaps a quick photo, sending it both to Mary and Molly with the caption _“how do I look?”._ It doesn’t take long to get back a reply from both.

_[1:22 PM] Molly: You look fine, Sherlock :)  
_ _[1:23 PM] Mary: You look like absolute shite. JK, you look stunning. ;) Don’t worry._

Their responses don’t help with calming his nerves. But at least he knows that he looks decent enough. Sherlock doesn’t know what to say to them so he says nothing and shrugs on his coat. Mary said she would arrange everything and just told him to be at the library around two o’clock.

How fitting.

Instead of taking his usual way to the library that only takes about fifteen minutes, Sherlock makes sure he takes twice as long and arrives just in time. He is stalling and he knows it. He can’t help it. His mind is still racing about what he should say to John, how he should behave, what to do so John will not hate him like other people do after meeting him.

There is an empty table with two empty seats shoved in a corner and he quickly sits on one of the chairs. There aren’t many people around, which he is glad for. He’s not sure if Mary picked this time on purpose. Is it always this quiet here around this time of the day? Sherlock has a perfect view on the door from his position. Every time someone walks in his heart stops beating for a moment until he realises that it is not John and that he’ll be fine. Until, of course, it is actually John entering the building.

It’s a quarter past two and John still isn’t here. It seems that John has a habit of not being on time. Not that he minds too much. It’s fine, really. Now he has more time to think, doesn’t he? Nevermind that he is getting more nervous with every passing minute.

It’s almost half past two when John shows up and Sherlock gathers all the courage he has left to stand up and properly greet the other. Luckily he doesn’t have to think about it too much because John walks up to him with a bright smile on his face and offers his gloved hand. Sherlock takes it with a small smile of his own.

He’s grateful that John can’t feel how sweaty his palms are.

“Sherlock, right?” John asks. “Mary and Molly told me a lot about you.”

“Only good things, I hope.” Sherlock decides to give John a smile that most people consider charming and offers John the other seat.

“For the most part,” John grins. It’s obviously meant as a joke. “There are some rather unbelievable things Molly told me.”

Sherlock gives John a look that tells him to explain further. John takes off his coat while he elaborates. 

“She tells me that you can figure out details about a person just by looking at them.” He takes out his phone and unlocks his phone for a moment to get rid of all the notifications he has and lays it down on the table.

His background is a family photo, Sherlock notices. It’s a picture of a small boy and a girl standing in front of a man. It’s a bit of a grim picture because the boy is crying and the girl looks as if she is about to cry as well. The man just stands straight with a hand on the girl’s shoulder and the boy clinging onto his leg.

“Afghanistan or Iraq?” Sherlock asks.

John blinks. “Sorry?”

“I said, Afghanistan or Iraq?” Sherlock repeats himself. He doesn’t wait for permission to grab John’s phone and takes a closer look at the photo.

“Afghanistan. Sorry, how do you know this?” John looks genuinely shocked and for a moment Sherlock is afraid that he has ruined this. He doesn’t let John know, though. He takes a deep breath and starts to explain.

“I don’t know, I _saw_. His haircut, the way he holds himself. It says military. His face is tanned, but no tan above his wrist; he’s been abroad but not sunbathing. Then there’s this boy, I assume it’s you, that is holding onto him as if he doesn’t want him to go. The girl, your sister, is holding back tears. He is not leaving willingly. This photo was taken awhile ago, so he’s most likely back by now.” Sherlock hands his phone back and awaits John’s response.

“That was... amazing.” John says and wows underneath his breath, his bright grin returning. There is only admiration in his eyes and Sherlock is relieved. For once he didn’t make a fool of himself. Not when it absolutely matters.

“You’ve got one thing wrong, though.”

“And that is?”

“He never returned.”

Sherlock winces. “Well, there’s always _something_.”

John doesn’t appear to mind and just slams his chemistry book on the table. “So, you’ll help me with this?”

* * *

John is surprisingly easy to tutor and he is eager to learn, Sherlock found out. Mary told him that John is extremely stubborn, but Sherlock has yet to experience that. They agreed to sit together during lectures. 

It’s convenient, John said, because Sherlock will be able to help him with anything he doesn’t get immediately. Then they don’t have to go over a subject twice. Sherlock reluctantly agreed. John almost wanted to exchange numbers when he suddenly realised that they’re in the same group chat together and are both participating in the secret Santa.

It’s two AM when he is woken up by insisted knocking and an envelope is being shoved inside through underneath the door.

 _To: Sherly <3 _ _  
_ _From: Jim_

It’s red and he’s covered with glitter after he takes out the card.

_Dear Sher,_

_Because you won’t answer my texts and messages, I will send you daily Christmas cards. Isn’t that fun!? It’s going to be a surprise when they’ll show up :) Hopefully this will change your mind about ignoring me. Or else I will have to resort to other options and we don’t want that, do we? :’( You know how ‘crazy’ I can be._

_Many, many, MANY kisses and FOREVER yours,_

_Jim xxx_

Sherlock feels nauseous. A shiver goes down his spine and all he wants to do is to throw away the card and forget about it. He doesn’t believe that Jim will do him any harm. Not yet, anyway. He knows he will only encourage his behaviour if he does reply to his messages. He might not be able to ignore him anymore soon, though.

He doesn’t sleep for the rest of the night.

* * *

The only reason Sherlock goes to this lecture is because of John. If John didn’t need his help he wouldn’t have gotten out of his bed. He is exhausted. He wants to sleep, but the events of last night still haunt him. It shouldn’t be bothering him as much as it is.

“You okay?” John asks him, his voice full with concern. It’s genuine concern and it startles Sherlock. “You look a little pale.”

“Just fine.” Sherlock answers and forces a smile on his face.

There is no way that he can tell John.

* * *

The cards he gets aren’t getting more threatening. The amount of ominous messages Jim sends are the same. He keeps texting and sends him daily Christmas cards as promised, but nothing more than that. At some point Sherlock thought he saw someone following him, but it turned out to be a girl that simply couldn’t find her way to her classroom and thought Sherlock was going the way she had to go.

It took him twenty minutes to calm down.

He’s getting paranoid and he knows it. There’s no way he can stop it. He doesn't know how. He has to be alert at all times. Not knowing what Jim will do next scares him and he hates it. Jim is unpredictable. He is known for getting what he wants, no matter what or how. He will do whatever it takes to get what he desires.

Sherlock keeps ignoring him. He stopped with reading the cards. He’s grateful that he gets them whenever he’s at home and not while he is at university or doing something else.

It’s Thursday, which means that he will tutor John today. They agree to meet at the library and Sherlock enjoys it. The library is usually quiet whenever they’re there. He feels strangely safe surrounded by hundreds of books. As if the bookcases surrounding him will protect him from Jim.

They’re currently talking about John’s family, about his sister Harry, when Sherlock sees that someone takes something out of his coat pocket.

His heart stops.

It’s the card he received today. He forgot to put it away.

“What’s this, Holmes?” Sebastian laughs and waves the red envelope in front of his face. He pulls it away before Sherlock is able to snatch it from him.

“Is this a love letter?” He attempts to take the card out, but this time Sherlock is quick enough to pull it out of his hands and hurriedly shoves it inside his chemistry book. Sebastian whistles lowly and smirks.

“Who wrote it?”

Sherlock doesn’t respond and focuses on the bookcase in front of him, ignoring John’s gaze.

“Did you write it, John?”

John snorts and laughs. “Yeah, ‘course.”

It’s a good enough response for Sebastian to leave. He gives John a pat on his shoulder and Sherlock a shake of his head, as if disappointed and walks away.

Sherlock takes in a deep breath. He didn’t read it, thankfully.

* * *

When Sherlock is home he removes the card from his book and every page is practically covered with glitter. He hasn’t read this card and he wasn’t planning on doing so, but the envelope managed to break open.

He decides to read this one.

 _To: Sherly_  
_From: Jim_

There isn’t a heart written by his name this time.

_Dear Sherl,_

_I am getting tired of your lack of response. You know how I do not like to not get what I want. All I want for Christmas is your attention. :( Soon I will get impatient. The clock is going tick, tock, tick, tock... Time never stops. Answer me or you will have to deal with the consequences. The cards will show up randomly now. :D Expect them to arrive wherever you are. Have fun!!!!!~_

_PS: What a nice pet you have._

_Many kisses,_

_Jim xxxx_

Sherlock rips the card to pieces and burns them.

* * *

The cards are handed to him in secret. He never sees who it is that either slips them in his pocket during lectures or while he’s in the library. He’s glad for it.

Receiving those cards make his heartbeat goes faster, his breathing picks up and he gets a cold sweat. Rationally he knows that this is not good, that he should go to a doctor and get this checked out. Sherlock knows that it is anxiety that causes this embarrassing behaviour.

So far no one has noticed that he’s not feeling like his usual self. Molly knows about his black moods and since she can’t keep anything to herself, John and Mary know too. They don’t question anything and simply let him be. Should he be annoyed?

He’s ready to leave when he gets a text.

_1:32 PM: Can’t make it to the library today. Feel awful. Meet at my place? - John_

Sherlock relaxes. He replies immediately.

_1:32 PM: Be there in twenty. SH_

The only time has ever been to John’s place was a week ago. It’s clean and organised, completely the opposite of how his place looks like. It isn’t far from the library and Sherlock arrives within twenty minutes.

Mary is the one that opens the door and allows him to come in with a smile on her face. She takes his coat and offers him a cup of tea, ushering him to the small living room she and John have.

John is sitting on the sofa with a blanket around his shoulders and he’s holding a steaming cup. He looks ill. That explains why he sent the text. Sherlock sits next to him after greeting him. He doubts that they will do much work today and actually keeps his book in his bag. He doesn’t bother with taking out his laptop either.

They can skip it this once, Sherlock thinks. John has made quite a lot of progress already and he knows the formulas that are in the chapters they’re covering this week.

Mary comes back from the kitchen with two mugs fifteen minutes later. She gives the plain black one to Sherlock and keeps the one with cats for herself. Molly has the same mug, he remembers. Maybe it was a gift from Mary at some point.

“It was.” Mary answers his unasked question and sits down in a chair across from them. Sometimes Sherlock wonders if Mary is capable of reading his mind. Is this what it feels like for the people he deduces?   

They are chatting and laughing until there is a knock on the door Sherlock recognises and a familiar red envelope is shoved through the letterbox. Sherlock doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t stop Mary from getting the card and opening the front door to see if she can see the person who delivered it. She comes back after a few minutes.

“That’s odd.” she says. Mary takes a look at the envelope, sees Sherlock’s name written on it and hands it to him without another word. He takes it from her. Should he open it here?

“Are you okay?” John asks, glancing at his hands and frowns. His hands are trembling. Sherlock doesn’t respond, he is still trying to decide whether he should read the damned thing or not.

Mary snatches the envelope out of his hands, rips the card out and starts reading it. She ignores all the gold and silver glitter that is covering her blouse.

Suddenly John’s hands are covering his own and he is telling him how to breathe, telling him to follow his lead and for some reason he is cooperating. Only now does he realise how much of a struggle it is to breathe correctly. It feels as if someone is pushing on his chest.

“That’s it.” John encourages him and offers him a small smile. Worry is etched on his face. He squeezes his hands. “Come on, deep breath. It’s okay.”

“ _Jesus,”_ Mary breathes and she turns her attention towards John. “God, you-- Listen to what Jim wrote.”

She begins to read the card aloud.

_Sherlock,_

_This is the last card you will receive. This is also the last chance you get to reply to me and comply to my wishes. If you will not do what I say, you will have to suffer the consequences. I have stated them in my previous cards (most of which you haven’t read and I don’t care)._

_I do hope that you will make the right decision for yourself. Don’t forget that I know everything about you, Sherlock. I know where you live, who your friends are, where they live, their families and yours... Must I go on?_

_You know that I have many connections._

_I think that I made my point_ **_very_ ** _clear._

_Tick, tock._

_Jim._

Somehow John looks just as miserable as Sherlock feels and they’re both having trouble with breathing now. Even Mary is shaken up.

“You weren’t in a black mood, were you?” Mary asks.

“No.” Sherlock sees no reason in lying.

Mary nods. “We have to do something about this.”

Sherlock agrees. They don’t know what to do. The only prove they have of Jim harassing him are the cards and the strange texts. He’s getting threatened, but in a very peculiar way. The police will tell him to solve this himself. To be careful and press charges when Jim’s behaviour gets even worse.

They don’t understand how erratic Jim is.

He is not an idiot. He knows that Jim is serious and that he will carry out his threats, whatever those might be.

The entire situation feels hopeless to all three of them. Sherlock has never felt this awful in his entire life.

At least John is there helping him to breathe.

* * *

A week goes by and nothing happens. It doesn’t help with Sherlock’s anxiety. If anything, it got worse. He hates not knowing. He hates not being able to do a thing. It will backfire if he tries and stops this. Jim will most definitely not appreciate his attempt and he refuses to play his game.

John and Mary visit every day. For some reason he agreed to allow them to come over whenever they wish and he even gave them a key to his small apartment. He even agreed to text them every morning when he wakes up.

It’s a bit excessive, even for his standards.

They usually visit together unless John and Sherlock share a lecture. Then it’s always John that is the first to arrive because he comes along with Sherlock. It reminds Sherlock of when he was younger and brought a friend home. That happened once, though. He realised that everyone is an idiot compared to him a couple of days later. He grew bored of ‘normal’ people after that.  

Their visits help a little.

* * *

 

It’s Friday in the afternoon when Mycroft visits. The first thing his brother does is hold out a package of cigarettes and offers him one. Sherlock can’t resist so he accepts. 

“What’s the occasion?” Sherlock asks as he lights his cigarette. Mycroft rarely decides to come over. It’s rarely a good sign when he does.

Mycroft doesn’t reply. He takes a cigarette of his own, sits down across from Sherlock and smokes with him.

They don’t talk.

He leaves half an hour later.

* * *

John still works at the library. Mostly during the weekends lately, but he helps as much as he can. Sherlock isn’t sure why he offered to help him with putting away books. Somehow it seemed much better to be at the library than at his flat.

“What’s your favourite book?” John asks. He has a tendency to ask questions about trivial things when he feels that the silence between them gets too long.

“I don’t have a favourite book.” Sherlock answers and puts away a biology book. He sighs when John frowns. “I only read to educate myself, John. Literature is boring. If I must answer your question, however, I suppose I could say that my chemistry book is my favourite.”

John snorts and shakes his head, elbowing Sherlock playfully in his side. “Want to know what my favourite book is?”

“Not particularly, no.” Sherlock says and quickly moves out of John’s reach before he’s being elbowed again.

“Fine, then I won’t tell you.”

Great. Now he does want to know. “Tell me.”

John considers it for a moment. Sherlock gives him a particular look that works on everyone whenever he wants something and John rolls his eyes. He is not able to resist it either.

“I like Harry Potter.”

“That’s _atrocious_.”

He barely misses the magazine that is being thrown at his face. John looks guilty for a moment until he grins at Sherlock. The magazine wasn’t meant to hit him, then. Sherlock returns the grin with a hesitant smile of his own. Smiling isn’t something he’s used to.

However, John manages to make him smile every day.

* * *

 

It’s around four AM and Sherlock is awake. It is far too early to be awake on a Sunday, he thinks and he is pretty certain that most people would agree with him. He has been awake for three solid hours now. All because of a few odd sounds coming from outside. 

It’s probably nothing.

He moves to the sofa.

It’s a habit he created in the past few months whenever he can’t sleep because of noise or strange shadows or whatever that is outside or inside that is suspicious to him.

* * *

Sherlock wakes up and sees Jim sitting on his living room floor. Somehow it doesn’t surprise him that Jim is in his flat. It is what he expected to happen for some time now.

It doesn’t make him any less afraid of what is going to happen. He doesn’t know what Jim is planning. Is this just an unannounced visit? Just another one of Jim’s attempts to make him try and comply? Or is he carrying out one of his many threats? It is difficult to deduce. All Jim does is stare at him with a blank expression. It is terrifying.

Sherlock sits up and suddenly Jim pulls out a shining gun from behind his back, giving him a small mischievous smile. There is a particular look in Jim’s eyes Sherlock doesn’t like to see. He is enjoying this, isn’t he? Of course Jim is.

Jim is known to enjoy people’s suffering.

“Wouldn’t move too much if I were you,” Jim giggles. “I have very sensitive reflexes and they get triggered easily. You don’t want to get shot, do you, Sherly?” His voice sounds light, almost as if they are having a regular conversation.

Sherlock decides to play along. What else is he supposed to do? Call the police? Obviously he can’t do that. Not with Jim paying such close attention to him. If he manages to distract Jim he might be able to escape the flat and seek help. So he relaxes against the back of the sofa and crosses his legs.

“I want your attention and you plainly refuse to give it to me,” Jim sighs in annoyance. “Have you got any idea how frustrating it is to not get what you want? I want _you_ , Sherlock.”

Sherlock remains quiet.

“I tried everything,” Jim pouts. “It’s a bit unfair that I can only get your attention with breaking into your flat.” He stands up and begins to pace the room. Sherlock suspects that Jim is getting irritated. “You refuse to play the game.”

What game? Solving the few cases Jim managed to get him at some point? He wonders how he even got those files. Well, of course the other has dubious connections. Sherlock had been interested in him in the beginning. Only because they’re both clever. He realised soon that Jim isn’t the right kind of person to be associated with.

“I was going to give you a Christmas present,” Jim winks at him. He sits down next to Sherlock and leans in closely. “You would have liked it.” he breathes in his ear and smiles when Sherlock shivers. He doesn’t move away.

Abruptly, Jim’s mood shifts dramatically.

Jim presses his gun against Sherlock’s side. “Staying silent isn’t a good idea either, Sherlock,” he growls. “A one-sided conversation is _dull._ You don’t want me bored, do you? You know how I get when I am bored.”

The safety is clicked off.

“Come on and speak. Say something. _Challenge me._ ”

Suddenly Jim laughs. “Tsk. You’re challenging me right now, aren’t you? This is part of the game, of course. Of course it is.

It’s not. Sherlock doesn’t know what to say to Jim without angering him. The gun is a reminder of how careful he must be. He knows that Jim is capable of doing everything and he will shoot him without a doubt.

Jim starts to pace the room again. Sherlock is able to breathe for a second without having a weapon pressed against his body.

“You know, I don’t like this. I don’t like _any_ of this,” He kicks the office chair and it falls on the floor with a loud bang. Sherlock doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t allow himself to show much emotion. “You are _fucking_ with my mind. You are playing with me! I know you are! This is _not_ the game I wanted to play, Sherlock!”

His eyes are blazing with anger.

Jim seems to want to shoot Sherlock, even going as far as putting the gun on his forehead until he changes his mind and instead hits his jaw with unnecessary force.

Sherlock groans in pain. He’s sure he might pass out.

Jim lets out a surprised sound and stumbles before he lands face down on the floor.

The moment Sherlock dares to open his eyes he is met by John’s concerned face and Mary making sure that Jim is not dead. Apparently he is unconcious. How in the hell did they manage to get in his flat without anyone noticing? How did they even know that something was going on?

“You didn’t text us like we agreed on. And your back door was wide open.” Mary explains, grabbing Jim’s wrists to tie them together with a piece of tie-wrap.

John stifles a laugh. “Yeah, uhm, it was. Open, I mean.”

Sherlock snorts weakly. “Childish, John.”

* * *

Jim is out of his flat and brought to the hospital for a brief check up. Then he will go to the police station to be questioned. Or, at least, that is what Sherlock thought until his brother enters his bedroom.

The Detective Inspector that is taking his statement looks up from his notes and blinks, smiles at Mycroft and turns back to Sherlock. “So, you’ve been receiving threats from the suspect for how long?”

“Weeks.” He is being deliberately vague. Certainly Mycroft knows every detail by now.

Giving the DI a statement is getting annoying. Several questions are being repeated, trying to coax more information out of him, but he keeps giving the same answers. Then again, it irks him that John and Mary aren’t allowed in the same room as him while he has to explain what happened to the policeman so he decides to make his job even more difficult. This has nothing to do with that Mycroft is dating him.

What the hell was his name again?

Mycroft doesn’t intervene. He is merely a presence in the room. Then the DI stops with asking anything, closes his notebook and hands it to Mycroft.

“Thank you, Gregory.” Mycroft says in an unusual kind tone.

“Your visit. You came here to observe. You _knew_.” Sherlock hisses and a flare of anger washes over him. It shouldn’t upset him anymore. This is typically his brother’s behaviour. He only steps in whenever he sees fit.

Mycroft sighs, shakes his head and gives Sherlock one of his many tired expressions. “There is nothing I could have done to prevent this from happening, Sherlock. Now stop with being immature. Gregory and I will handle your case. Also, I will update the security around your flat.”

“Fine.”

* * *

After the whole scene with Jim is over, Sherlock hears nothing from his brother and Lestrade. All he knows is that they’re still investigating. He had to hand over every card and letter he received from Jim and his phone. Luckily Mycroft bought him a new phone, one that’s nearly identical. He can’t complain.

Mary and John refuse to leave his side for the few weeks that follow afterwards. Once they have been reassured that Jim will not return for a long while they back off and allow Sherlock some privacy and much needed space. There’s only so much time he is willing to spend with them.

Molly finds out a week before the secret Santa party and slaps him in his face, asking him why he doesn’t trust her enough when she has dealt with plenty of his shit in the past. Then she apologises, presses ice against his cheek and Sherlock tells her that it’s fine. He promises to not make her feel left out again.

He means it, too.

* * *

Nearly everything goes back to how it was before Jim sent him those disturbing Christmas cards. John and Mary still come by often. Molly joins them sometimes. It’s nice.

He and John spend more time together. It’s strange how John insists on spending more one on one time with him. Not that Sherlock is complaining. Quite the opposite, actually.

Sherlock can’t believe how foolish he had been with not wanting to speak with John when he first met him. He should have known that John is different than anyone else from the very beginning.

* * *

It’s the night of the party and Sherlock is nervous. Extremely nervous. He cannot remember being this nervous in ages. In the past hour he has changed his outfit for three times, went to the bathroom at least twice and hasn’t stopped pacing his room ever since he started.

Molly drops by after forty-one minutes, even though she’s the one that is organising everything, forces him to sit down and makes him a cup of tea. Then she lays out another outfit for him and tells him to change because God, what he is wearing now is simply embarrassing.

“Here.” she says and gives him a small present. It’s gold and a red ribbon is wrapped around the box. Sherlock is careful with unwrapping the gift.

“A watch?” It is beautiful. It is heavy and exactly his taste. He silently asks her to help him with putting it on.

“Yeah. I know you like watches, judging by the few you have in your room. It’s not expensive, I mean, I did have to save up some money, but it’s not the quality you’re used to,” Molly adjusts the time for Sherlock as well while she’s talking. “Anyway. I had Jim. With secret Santa. But he’s gone and I wanted to give someone something either way so I picked you.”

Molly blushes. “Christmas isn’t your type of thing. But I hope this gift helps a little bit with brightening your mood.”

Sherlock swallows the lump in his throat and pulls her into a tight hug. “Thank you.”

It’s the most thoughtful gift anyone has ever given him.

* * *

 

Molly drags him to her place and tells him to help her with the preparations for the party. He has to decorate the place with even more colourful lights and other Christmas ornaments. Not that he minds. He’s glad for the distraction Molly provides him. 

She’s humming Christmas songs quietly and Sherlock, being in a good mood, allows her to put on the radio so she can sing along instead. She gives him hot chocolate milk in return.

Then the first few guests arrive.

Sherlock doesn’t know the first two girls that arrive, but they know him and they keep telling him how nice it is that he is helping Molly. He doesn’t listen to anything else they say. Sebastian is the third to arrive. He doesn’t greet Sherlock, gives Molly a brief handshake and flirts with the other girls.

It’s all a blur after that. He greets people, kisses Mary on her cheek when she arrives five minutes late and apologises. John will be there within minutes, too, but spilled something on his shirt and had to change. Everyone puts their presents on a big table, not because they have to, but it’s practical. They will exchange the gifts later on in the evening.

“Don’t let tardiness become a habit. It doesn’t suit you.” Sherlock jokes the moment John walks into the room and they both laugh.

“I won’t let that happen, I promise you.” John says and places his gift on the table along with the others. It’s one of the few that is put in a gift bag. Sherlock can see immediately that John hasn’t even bothered with wrapping the gift.

John admits that he bought the gift last minute. Not because of laziness, but because he couldn’t think of anything that he wanted to give and nothing seemed to be right. Until last week, it appears.

Sherlock enjoys the small talk they have after that. Not that he’s good at having small talk, though. John does most of the talking. At some point he grabs them both a drink.

There is enough alcohol to make every person in the room drunk at least twice. The radio’s volume is turned up to its highest setting and the first person that starts to dance is Molly. It’s unlike her, but she had enough to drink to be tipsy already. Soon enough more people follow and there are only a few left sitting on the chairs and sofa.

Mary joins their conversation after dancing with Molly and reaches into her pocket. It’s a mistletoe and Sherlock panics a bit at the sight. She’s not going to do what he thinks she’s going to do, is she? No. No, she wouldn’t.

She does.

She would.

Mary stands on the tip of her toes and holds the mistletoe between John and Sherlock. She isn’t tall enough to hang it above them, but it gets the idea across.

And then the entire room is chanting for them to kiss. Even Sebastian is cheering. Not for the same reason as everyone else, though. He most likely wants Sherlock to embarrass himself. Well, he will not allow him to have that pleasure.

Sherlock takes in a deep breath, gathers all the courage he has still left in his body and leans in. He presses his lips against John’s without a single thought.

God, it’s awkward.

John doesn’t cooperate at first. He just stands still and when he does return the kiss Sherlock almost pulled away so John has to pull him back by grabbing his collar. Their noses bump and it hurts, but not enough for either of them to stop. All Sherlock can really feel is John’s teeth against his own and his nose throbs.

This is not how he imagined his first kiss to be. Not that he ever gave it much thought.

The guests cheer again when they break apart and then Mary moves over to other two innocent people, winking at Sherlock when she pasts him.

She planned this, of course.

John’s cheeks are burning red and his face feels as if it’s burning as well. Sherlock keeps his gaze away from John while John is still looking at him.

“This was not the best kiss.”

“No,” Sherlock agrees. “It was... awful, actually.”

For some reason John laughs loudly, then sobers up.

“Let’s talk about this when later, shall we? What this means and all that sort of stuff. You know, what you’re supposed to do after this.”

Sherlock nods, agreeing with John once more.

Molly announces that everyone should exchange gifts. She chose the right moment because no one is drunk enough yet to not be able to find their present and give it to the right person.

Sherlock watches the exchange between Mary and Molly.

Mary leaves the room for a couple of minutes and then returns with a small kitten in her hands. It is completely white and from afar looks like a ball of fur with four tiny legs. Molly can’t believe what she’s seeing and from shock covers her face with her hands.

“His name is Olaf. After the snowman from Frozen. I know how much you like that film,” Mary says. She laughs when the kitten meows softly and tries to escape from her hands. She is having none of it and instead tightens her grip a little. “It took me months to find him. It’s not the season for kittens, after all.”

Molly nearly cries with happiness when Mary hands her the animal.

“Were you aware of this?” Sherlock asks John and the other shrugs.

“That she was thinking about giving Molly a pet? Yes. I didn’t know she was giving her a cat, though.”

Sherlock snaps out of this thoughts of figuring out how Mary managed to take the animal with her without anyone noticing and grabs John’s gift.

This is the moment he’s been waiting for, isn’t it? Except the moment they kissed. Well, not that he waited for that to happen. Perhaps he had been hoping that they would kiss some time in the future, but not now.

“For you.” It’s said simultaneously.

Sherlock and John stare at each other. John is surprised while Sherlock is in shock.

Another thing he did not expect to happen tonight.

“Open mine first.” Sherlock insists and practically shoves the box in John’s hands.

“Right, alright.” John gives Sherlock the gift bag and takes off the lid, his eyes widening at the sight of the jumper. He gives Sherlock an unreadable expression, one that Sherlock can only identify as grateful, and runs his fingers over the fabric. John takes the jumper out of the box, hesitates for a moment, and slips it on with ease. It’s the perfect size.

“Holy shit! How did you know that I wanted this?”

“Lucky guess.” Sherlock replies. It’s not a complete lie, is it? John accepts the answer and grins wider than Sherlock has ever seen.

“Now open mine and then I will thank you for this amazing gift.”

Sherlock obeys and reaches into the bag. It’s a book.

“ _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_?”

“It’s the first book of the series. You should at least try it and if you like it, well, I will borrow you the other parts.” They both know that he will hate it regardless, but it doesn’t stop John from trying to make him like the books.

“This is an awful gift, John.”

It’s not. It’s funny and clever and really, really thoughtful. As thoughtful as the watch Molly gave him hours ago and it makes his heart flutter. A warm feeling spreads across his chest, though he’s not sure if it is emotion or the alcohol going through his system or both.

John is still grinning and wraps his arm around Sherlock’s waist. After the kiss Sherlock isn’t too bothered by the touch.

“How can I possibly make it up to you?”

“Let’s start by giving me a proper kiss that doesn’t involve teeth and noses clashing against each other."  
  



End file.
